In Grandma's Attic

by Arleta Richardson

  By suppertime Ma was alarmed by my actions. When I couldn’t eat, she was sure I was sick. Directly after family prayer—after Pa, as usual, prayed that the Lord would bless Mabel and help her to be a good child—Ma hurried me off to bed. She was sure I was coming down with something.

  I tossed and turned in my bed. Why had I listened to Sarah Jane? What would happen when Ma found out? What made me such a wicked little girl?

  After what seemed hours to me, I could stand it no longer. I crept down to the kitchen, threw myself into Ma’s lap, and sobbed loudly.

  Ma was startled. Whatever was the matter? With much sniffling, I told her the story. Those dreadful dishes were still in the root cellar, and I couldn’t get them out.

  Ma took me in her lap. She was sorry to hear that I had been disobedient. However, I seemed to have suffered enough over it, so she wouldn’t spank me. I did have to be punished, though. I would not play with Sarah Jane any more that week.

  My heart was so much lighter, and the punishment didn’t seem too bad. I returned to bed with a clear conscience and a resolve to be a better girl in the future. You really do feel better when you obey your father and mother, like the commandment says.

  “And were you better, Grandma? Didn’t you ever do anything naughty again?” I asked.

  Grandma laughed. “I wish I could say I didn’t, but that wouldn’t be true. I didn’t hide any more dirty dishes, though!”

  16

  Ma’s Birthday Cake

  Grandma was baking, and I had volunteered my services as onlooker and commentator.

  “When can I bake something, Grandma?” I asked. “I’m old enough to bake by myself. I can read the recipe and measure things.”

  “Yes,” said Grandma, “I believe you could. In fact, you would probably do a better job than I did the first time!”

  Grandma laughed as she reached for the cookie pans.

  Ma was going to have a birthday, and I thought it would be a good idea to have a surprise party for her. I talked it over with Pa, and he agreed that it would be nice. We could have the party in the front yard. There were lots of trees and soft grass, and it would be an excellent place for all the neighbors to gather. How this could be accomplished without Ma suspecting, we didn’t know, but we were determined to try.

  Fortune was with us, for on the morning of the party, Ma discovered that she had to make a trip to town before she could finish the shirts she was sewing for the boys.

  “Mabel,” she said, “how would you like to go into town with me this morning? We can leave right after breakfast and be back in time to get dinner ready for Pa and the boys.”

  Usually I would not have been able to finish my breakfast for thinking of a trip to town, but this morning my thoughts were on the party. What luck! With Ma gone, I could make her a birthday cake!

  “I guess I won’t go this morning, Ma,” I replied. “I think I’d rather stay here.”

  Ma looked at me with concern.

  “Are you sick?” she asked. “Do you have a fever?” She felt my head anxiously.

  “Oh, no, Ma,” I said quickly. “I feel just fine. I’ll even do the dishes for you if you’d like to get started right away.” Ma looked puzzled, but she had no time to pursue the matter further.

  I began to clear the table and get the dishes ready to wash. Normally this was not one of my favorite jobs, but today was a special day. Ma was soon ready to leave. She stopped at the door and looked at me suspiciously.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” she said. “Are you planning some kind of mischief while I’m gone?”

  “Of course not, Ma,” I said. “I’ll be as good as can be. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  Ma’s look said that she would worry about me, but she got into the buggy, and I watched as she and Nellie disappeared down the lane. Quickly I finished the dishes and began to gather the things necessary for the cake. I knew exactly what was needed. I had watched Ma stir up a cake so many times that I hadn’t the least doubt about my ability to make one too.

  The oven would present a little problem. I decided to ask Pa to fix the fire for me, and I found him in the barn. “Pa,” I said, “I’m making a birthday cake for Ma. Would you build up the fire for me?”

  Pa looked surprised.

  “Are you sure you can do that by yourself, Mabel? You’ve never baked a cake before, have you?”

  “No,” I said, “but I’ve watched Ma a lot. I’m sure I can do it. Please let me try.”

  Pa was reluctant, but he came into the kitchen and fixed the fire. After giving me careful instructions about the hot oven, he returned to the barn. I began happily mixing the cake in Ma’s biggest mixing bowl. I had left out nothing, I was sure. The batter looked just wonderful.

  As I greased the cake tins, I went back over the things I had put in the cake. Suddenly I remembered. The flavoring! I hadn’t put any flavoring in it! Quickly I ran to the pantry and reached for the big Watkins bottle that held the vanilla. Carefully I measured and stirred in the flavoring and returned the bottle to the shelf.

  The cake was ready to bake. I pulled my chair up near the oven to keep an eye on things. It was a warm spring day and I longed to be outside, but I dared not leave my cake for a moment. What if one of the boys came in, slammed the door, and made it fall? Nothing must happen to ruin this cake.

  Nothing did. It was high and golden brown. It looked every bit as good as Ma’s cakes. Proudly I set the tins on the table to cool. I only had to make the frosting and hide the cake before Ma returned.

  When the buggy turned in the lane shortly before dinnertime, I was swinging under the big tree. I ran to help Ma with her bundles as Roy led Nellie to the barn. I longed to tell her my secret, but of course I couldn’t. This was to be a surprise party!

  If Ma suspected anything, she didn’t let on. She returned to her sewing, and I spent the afternoon hanging on the front gate, waiting for the first arrivals to the party. They were to come at suppertime, and the ladies would all bring something good to eat. I was sure that no one would come with as beautiful a cake as mine, though.

  And I was right. Ma was surprised and pleased.

  “You made this all by yourself, Mabel?” she asked. “Why, it is just lovely. I had no idea you could do that alone!”

  Proudly I handed Ma the knife.

  “You must have the first piece, because it’s your birthday,” I said.

  Ma cut the cake and took a large slice on her plate. As she took a bite, an odd look came over her face. Something is wrong, I thought. But what could it be? I watched anxiously, but Ma kept on eating. Satisfied with my success, I ran to play with the other children.

  That evening, when the last guest had left, we sat in the kitchen, talking over the surprise.

  “And the biggest surprise was Mabel’s cake,” Ma said. “It was the most unusual cake I’ve ever eaten. What did you use to flavor it, Mabel?” she asked.

  “Why, the vanilla, Ma,” I said. “Just like you always use.”

  “Show me where you got it,” said Ma. “Where did you find the vanilla?”

  Ma followed me to the pantry, and I pointed to the big bottle on the shelf. Ma took it down and looked at it, then began to laugh. On the front of the bottle the label read “Watkins Liniment.”

  Ma wiped her eyes and hugged me close.

  “That’s all right, Mabel,” she said. “It was a lovely cake. A little liniment never hurt anyone. I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday present.”

  Grandma put the cookies in the oven and began clearing the table. She looked thoughtfully at the Watkins vanilla bottle.

  “Those bottles do look a lot alike,” she said. “I’m surprised I haven’t done the same thing again. But no one except Ma would have been brave enough to eat it if I had!”

&n
bsp; “I would, Grandma,” I assured her. “I’d eat anything you made.”

  And I would, too.

  17

  Grandma’s Warm Clothes

  It was a very cold night, and the wind whistled around the windows as I started to get ready for bed. “I hate to get in bed, Grandma,” I said. “The sheets are going to be so cold.”

  “Bring me your nightgown,” said Grandma, “and I’ll iron it for you.”

  I brought the nightgown, and Grandma quickly ironed it. When I put it on, it felt warm and toasty, and I hurried to get in bed.

  “Did your mother iron your nightgown for you when you were little, Grandma?” I asked.

  “No, she didn’t have to iron it,” said Grandma. “We had a place on the back of the old woodstove in the kitchen where we warmed our clothes. It was always cold in winter when we got up or went to bed because our bedrooms were not heated.”

  I snuggled into the covers and thought about how lucky I was.

  Grandma paused before turning off my light.

  “That stove got a little crowded sometimes,” she said with a laugh. “The boys wanted their clothes warmed too, and poor Ma had to work around a pile of shirts and socks and scarves. And one time I almost ruined our chances for warm clothes.”

  “You did, Grandma? Tell me what happened,” I said.

  Grandma sat down in the rocker.

  I woke up very early one morning. It wasn’t light yet, but I could see that snow had drifted in around the window. I knew there must be a storm, and it was going to be cold going to school.

  I heard Pa building up the fire before he left for the barn. I knew the boys would be called in a little while, and they would rush down with their clothes to warm them and dress by the fire. After they left for their chores, Ma would call me. I decided I would get a head start on them this morning and get my clothes down to warm before they did.

  I got out of bed quietly and gathered up the things Ma had left on the chair for me to wear that day. I tiptoed down to the kitchen and was pleased to see that Ma wasn’t there yet. I’d surprise them all. As I started to put my clothes on the back of the stove, another idea struck me: Why not put them in the oven? They’d heat faster and be much warmer to put on. So I opened the oven door and pushed in my flannel petticoats and heavy stockings. Then I ran back to my room and jumped into bed.

  A few minutes later I heard the boys run down to the kitchen, and I listened drowsily as they talked to Ma. Before they had left the house, Pa returned from the barn.

  “The storm is getting worse, Maryanne,” he said to Ma. “I don’t believe the children had better go to school today. Even if they took Nellie, they might not be able to get back by afternoon.”

  Ma agreed, and I heard the boys’ excited voices as they left for the barn. “I’ll just let Mabel sleep awhile longer then,” said Ma. “She can get up when the kitchen gets warmer.”

  This pleased me, and forgetting all about my clothes warming in the oven, I went back to sleep. It was sometime later when Ma came to call me for breakfast.

  “Put on your wrapper now, Mabel,” she said. “You can dress after breakfast. You won’t be going to school today.”

  While we were eating, Reuben said, “Ma, you must be standing too close to the stove. I can smell your apron burning.”

  Ma jumped back from the stove.

  “No, it isn’t burning,” she said, “but I do smell something. Did one of you leave a mitten on the back of the stove? Maybe it fell behind.”

  Roy got down on the floor to look, but he saw nothing. By this time the odor was stronger, and Ma was looking to see if something had been put in with the wood.

  Pa got up to help search.

  “I believe it’s coming from the oven,” he said, and he opened the door. Smoke billowed out, and Ma ran to open the kitchen door. Pa quickly reached into the oven and pulled out my petticoats and stockings. The boys looked at the scorched flannel and wool and then at Ma, who had come to survey the mess. Their smug looks said that they were glad it wasn’t their clothes Pa had found in the oven.

  “We’ll be up to the tops of our shoes in snow in our own kitchen,” Pa said as he went to close the door. “Who is responsible for this foolishness?”

  Of course everyone looked at me. “I just wanted to warm my clothes,” I said in a small voice. “I guess I forgot they were in there.”

  “You’ll have more than warm clothes if you pull a trick like that again,” Ma said to me. “Now get the broom and sweep out that snow. I declare, I don’t know what possesses you to be so thoughtless.”

  Ma picked up my clothes and held them at arm’s length.

  “Hardly even fit for rags,” she said. “My, I hope you grow up to have a little sense. It won’t be safe to let you out alone if you don’t.”

  I was properly ashamed and managed to be pretty quiet the rest of the day. Ma saw to warming my clothes from then on.

  Grandma laughed and turned out my light. I listened sleepily to the wind and was thankful for a warm bed and a grandma who knew such good stories.

  18

  Grandma’s Prayer

  The day was very hot, and I flopped down on the steps where Grandma was shelling peas for supper.

  “Oh, dear,” I complained, “why does it have to be so hot? Couldn’t we pray that the Lord would send us some cold weather?”

  Grandma laughed and threw me a pod to chew on.

  “It will be cooler when the sun goes down,” she said. “I don’t think the Lord wants us to pray for something like that. In fact, I learned that lesson the hard way.”

  The heat suddenly seemed a little easier to bear if there was to be a story, so I settled back on the steps and waited expectantly. Grandma smiled to herself and began.

  It happened the summer I was nine years old. It was a day in August, much like this one. Pa had been up to the house several times for a cool drink and finally said to Ma, “I guess I’ll have to give up on the fences until later. It’s just too hot to work out there. But if this heat doesn’t let up so I can finish, we won’t be able to get in to town on Saturday. I’ll have to work early in the morning and after the sun goes down.”

  Pa returned to the barn, and I sat beside the cellar door thinking about what I had heard. Not go to town on Saturday! That just couldn’t be! Sarah Jane and I had planned the whole day, and I just couldn’t miss it.

  I turned the problem over in my mind for some time. What could I do about the heat? Nothing, of course. And if Pa said no trip, then it was no trip.

  After supper Pa took down the big Bible for prayers. The scripture he chose perked me up considerably. He read, “If you ask anything in My name, I will do it.”

  That was the answer! I’d pray for cool weather tomorrow so that Pa could finish his fences. While Pa thanked the Lord for His goodness to us and asked His blessing on our home, I had just one request: “Please make it cool tomorrow.”

  I awoke early the next morning and ran to the window to look for clouds. I knew at once that my prayer was not answered. The sun was coming up, and the sky was clear. It promised to be as hot as yesterday, perhaps even hotter.

  I ate breakfast in glum silence. Maybe I hadn’t prayed hard enough. Or maybe I didn’t promise enough in return.

  As soon as I had finished helping Ma in the kitchen, I hurried to my room to ask the Lord again for cool weather. This time I promised to be obedient, kind to my brothers, and more help to Ma.

  I was so sure I had been heard that it was no surprise to hear Ma say, shortly after noon, “Would you look at those black clouds coming over! Mabel, run and shut the windows in the boys’ room. I believe it’s going to rain!”

  The sky grew blacker and a chill breeze came around the porch as I watched the results of my prayers. But to tell the truth, I was becoming
a bit worried. This didn’t look like an ordinary rainstorm to me. And it wasn’t. In a few minutes the clouds broke and it began to hail. Pep ran yipping under the porch, and I hurried inside to be nearer to Ma.

  The storm was over in a short time. Pa and the boys came in from the barn, and Pa dropped heavily into a chair.

  “Well, Maryanne,” he said, “that did a lot of damage to the wheat. We may be able to save some of it, but it was pretty badly beaten.”

  I didn’t listen further. I ran to my room and threw myself on my bed. The wheat was ruined, and it was all my fault. What would Pa do to me when he found out? I had just prayed for cool weather, not total destruction! I had probably promised too much this time. What would the family think of me if they knew I had brought on this terrible hailstorm? I was determined that they should not find out.

  But when Pa prayed that evening and thanked the Lord for His blessing and care, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I began to sob and cry, and Ma looked around in concern. Pa picked me up and put me on his lap, and finally the story came out.

  “Why, Mabel,” said Pa, “don’t you worry about that. Just remember that the Lord doesn’t expect us to ask favors for our convenience or pleasure. A hailstorm often follows a hot spell like this, and your prayers didn’t bring it on.”

  Grandma picked up the pans to carry them to the kitchen.

  “I was comforted by Pa’s assurance,” she said. “But I didn’t forget that day. It taught me to pray for the Lord’s will instead of demanding what I wanted.”

  19

  Molly Blue

  Grandma and I sat on the front porch of her old home.

  “Why doesn’t Uncle Roy have animals anymore?” I asked Grandma.